My Therapy
by FantasyDreamer06
Summary: Only one person can save Jareth from himself. One-Shot. Drug references. Jareth/Sarah.


**"My Therapy"**

When the bliss of salvation has come  
I don't mind silence and my fear is gone  
It's the chemical way to serenity  
It's faith versus science

*This story is heavily inspired by the song My Therapy by Kamelot. The above lyrics are part of that song. I have no rights or claim to any of the music or characters.

The sharp taste of whiskey burns its way down my throat, warming me from within. My mind becomes hazy as the Nymph's Kiss that it was laced with works its way through my system, bringing with it a quiet serenity. Minutes, or perhaps hours pass before I regain any of my senses as I float in a distant and blissful haze.

It's the loud ticking of the thirteen hour clock that brings me back. Only Five minutes had passed.

I need a stronger dose.

For immortals, centuries pass as seconds. And yet, there is no escaping my past or the pain no matter how much time ticks away.

My rebellion led me to this low moment. Now I am A king looking for an escape in the bottom of a bottle or in the glittery promise of drugs.

Perhaps if they hadn't left me a millenia ago here to rot, perhaps if she hadn't rejected me, it would be different now.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps this was simply my fate.

Rising, I face the mirror. At first only my own gaunt reflection stares blankly back at me. Then the surface shifts. It senses my need without a word being spoken.

As her image meets my starving eyes, strength leaves me, my body slumping. Leather-clad fingers brush her cheek through the glass as she sleeps, caressing the woman I can't reach. Years had passed, maturing and carving her features into a painfully beautiful sculpture. And yet, in her sleep, her face still held the cruel innocence that had captivated me when she was barely on the cusp of womanhood. If only. If only things were different. My hand falls away, the surface solidifying once more. I hardly recognize the man looking back at me. He is thin, almost skeletal. Years of nothing but the company of goblins and regrets have taken their toll. Sarah had been my final undoing. Turning away, I pull a vial of rich amber liquid from a pocket, pouring a few extra drops into my liquor.

Perhaps tonight, I will sleep.

Unconsciousness envelops me, and I sink into its waiting arms as though embracing a lover. I welcome the blackness that clouds my vision, my mind floating in an indescribable euphoria. It lulls me, relaxes me. Tranquilizes me.

At least Until I crash back down, convulsing in pain and yet unable to wake up. The extra drops were too much. It is too late now.

It is in this terrified state that I find nightmares. Visions and demons, flames dancing until nothing but ash and blackness remain.

Crushing darkness and solitude presses upon me as I fight the invisible ties that secure me, and me alone, to the cold dry earth. Bound by chains of my own creation, I scream without sound into the emptiness. I thrash against my bindings, my skull connecting sharply with unforgiving earth.

Bolts of pain shock me, stars exploding behind my eyelids. I vaguely feel my body twisting, but the pain is too intense. It's all I can feel. It spreads like wildfire across my entire being, drowning out all else.

I must have screamed again, yet I cannot hear my own voice. It is swallowed by the silence.

The torment feels endless. I claw and scratch, desperate for relief.

It is in that dirty, aching state that a dark angel comes to me. I don't see her approach until she is above me, lowering her hood. As soon as I see her, everything goes quiet. She is all I can see. She consumes me, as she always has. Her features so familiar, and yet so alien. I know this is merely a dream, a hallucination brought on by my foolish overdose, and yet I cannot resist the undeniable pull of this sweet illusion. Ever so gently she guides me to my feet, pulling me from my misery. Her hands caress my face, slender fingers tenderly brushing my cheek, dirt falling away as I lean into the touch I have craved for so long. At last, there is silence. The peace I had long sought washes over me. Her green eyes wordlessly communicates her sympathy as she gently cleanses me, dust falling to the ground as her hand moves from my face to my arm, silently telling me I am worth more than words can say.

She is more powerful than any drug could ever hope to be. Even in my dreams, she is the only thing that soothes away my pain.

I savor every second of her presence. As she pulls away from me with sadness in her eyes, I reach for her, desperate to keep her with me. Please, don't go. Not again. But her fingers slip from mine, and just like that, I am jolted back to reality.

My skull feels like it is threatening to split open, my vision dancing as I try to focus on the cold stone ceiling above me. Even my ragged breathing causes the ache to pulse even more powerfully, drowning out everything around me.

Slowly, one by one, my senses return. I realize I am on the floor of my castle, the painful pulsing subsiding to a strong headache throbbing behind my temples.

I am alive. She saved me. My dark-haired angel and torturer.

Sarah.

I struggle to rise and once more I face the mirror. The gaunt man stares emptily back, the barest flicker of life burning behind his blue eyes. Hair that once proudly crowned his head now limply clings to his shoulders. I face this man, the man that I have become. Deliberately I peel off a glove. I study my hands. Youthful and strong, they show the echo of the man I had once been. The man that had created a labyrinth and defied a kingdom for his freedom. The hands that had let slip the only woman that had ever mattered.

My fist hits the glass as I lean heavily against it. Anger and pain surge through me again as I dwell on my past mistakes and regrets. It is then that the mirror ripples. I know what it will show. As always it is like looking through a window, watching her just living her life, not knowing the torment I face each moment because of her. I brace myself for the sweet agony of it.

I push away, waiting for the image to come into focus. As it does, my throat closes and my breath catches.

She is staring back at me. Not through me as though she doesn't see me, but at me. She reaches for the mirror, placing her fingertips on the glass. I mimic her movements, and nearly collapse at the contact.

The feel of her warm fingers is surreal. Her fingers wrapping themselves around my wrist brings me to my knees, tears forming and flowing as I fall apart.

I can't see her through my blurred vision, but I feel her. Stepping through the mirror her fingers stroke my hair, her hands brushing across my shoulders and turning my face to hers.

My heart races and aches, my mind both in chaos and devoid of rational thoughts. Yet her presence cuts through the clutter in my mind, my very soul filled with an indescribable peace.

Please, please don't leave.

Her arms wrap around me. I tremble like a child in her embrace.

She is here. My angel and my salvation.

The vial in my pocket shatters.

I am saved.

end


End file.
